


Little Boxes

by teacuphuman



Series: A Month of Kink! [5]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Gifts, Love Notes, M/M, Pining, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 22:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4937518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuphuman/pseuds/teacuphuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames receives gifts from a secret admirer. </p><p>The first gift arrives on Valentine’s Day. Eames shakes the small box, but the contents don’t budge. Whoever sent it went to a lot of trouble tracking him down at one of his safe houses, and he’s not sure if that impresses or terrifies him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Boxes

**Author's Note:**

> Day five of the Month of Kink: Secret Admirer
> 
> This one started out as a completely different entry, but soon took on a life of it's own. I have to say I'm super proud of it and think it's my favourite so far. Hope you enjoy!

The first gift arrives on Valentine’s Day. Eames shakes the small box, but the contents don’t budge. Whoever sent it went to a lot of trouble tracking him down at one of his safe houses, and he’s not sure if that impresses or terrifies him.

He slits the tape and the brown paper wrapping falls away to reveal an ordinary silver gift box. Nothing is ticking so he cautiously slides off the top. He huffs out a laugh when he sees the contents. A pair of boxer with poker chips on them are wrapped around a bottle of cologne, which has been encased in bubble wrap.

The boxers are his size and the cologne not only turns out to be non-toxic, but also crisp and masculine, and quite lovely. It’s from a small company in Berlin that specializes in custom scents. The name on the label is Mountebank. Eames smiles, pleased someone went to so much trouble to find gifts he’d like, and also a little creeped out that someone has taken it upon themselves to dictate what he wears on his person.

At the bottom of the box is a single piece of paper, folded in half. _Happy Valentine’s Day_ is written in block letters. The postage indicates the gifts were sent from Shanghai, three weeks prior. Eames thinks back on who he knows that would have been in that city, at that time. When nothing springs to mind, he places the note into the box, and tucks it into his bag.

Never one to waste, he wears the boxers. The cologne he saves. If he only brings it out to wear before wanking gleefully to the thought of his secret admirer, no one needs to know.

He half forgets about the gift until the card arrives, a month later, while he’s back in Mombasa. It’s simple cardstock, once more folded in two, with _Thinking of you_ written in the same block letters. Eames adds it to the box and leaves for a job in Madrid.

In April, another card arrives. _Sorry I missed you_ joins the growing pile. He doesn’t know why he takes the box along with him from place to place, but something about it feels too important to leave behind.

In May, a box is waiting for him at the reception desk of his hotel in L.A. This time it’s black, with salmon coloured dress socks and a deck of antique playing cards nestled inside. He blushes when he opens the silver box to add _I’ll always remember_ to the pile.

The next day Arthur comments on his socks, calling them an abomination against nature. Eames grins, the warmth of knowing someone cares, pooling in his belly.

There’s no card in June, and Eames tries not to feel disappointed. He pulls out the previous ones, pouring over the paper and the writing, trying to find something he’s missed. Maybe the sender meant for him to know their identity and Eames has failed, content with the attention as it is.

By July he’s sure his admirer has moved on. When a bouquet of hyacinthe are delivered to his apartment in Paris with a note stating _Your loveliness charms me, and carried me through_ , he starts a list.

There are only four names on the list, and three of them he prays are impossible. The dreamshare community is small, and Eames is careful with what personal information he gives out. It could simply be coincidence that his admirer sent him his mother’s favourite flowers along with their meaning, but he doubts it.

Giles is first on the list. He’s known Eames the longest, since he’s the one who introduced him to dream sharing ten years ago, but they lost contact when a job went sideways in Taipei. Accusations were flung, bridges were burned, and the last he heard, Giles was living in Barcelona with a wife and three kids. As unlikely as it is, his name stays on the list because facts are facts, and he’s the only one who knew Eames, before he was Eames.

Yusuf is second. Eames shook with laughter writing it, and so the lines of his name are tilted and wobbly. Yusuf’s not one for a long con, and this has gone on for months, but if he were truly trying to fuck with Eames, he could manage it. Yusuf knows what he likes, what he dislikes, and he usually knows where to find him. If it does turn out to be Yusuf, Eames can admit he’ll be disappointed.

The third name is Stasik. Eames and he had a brief, albeit intense affair two years ago, that ended badly. Stasik wasn’t on the job. He’d just been a nice guy with a lovely face who couldn’t understand why Eames wouldn’t stay. He’d made the mistake of issuing an ultimatum, reacting poorly when Eames laughed at him. He truly hadn’t meant to hurt Stasik, had maybe even considered being capable of loving him one day, but he’d failed to notice how deep the man had gotten tangled up. He’d also failed to notice how connected to the Russian mafia Stasik was. Eames knew better now. Now he did his research.

Which brought him to the last name on the list. The one he’d been half afraid to put on paper. Arthur. Never one to doubt Arthur’s abilities, Eames can’t quite marry the idea of the buttoned up pointman with the handwritten love notes. But the facts are hard to ignore, and Arthur is the best researcher in the business. Keeping tabs on the people he considers worthwhile colleges was good business, and Arthur would have no trouble locating Eames and his sussing out his weaknesses.

The thought of Arthur selecting gifts for him sends a shiver up his spine. He imagines Arthur picking out the notes that make up Eames’ cologne, and has to adjust himself. The elderly woman in the seat beside him gives him a knowing smile and goes back to her book. He sobers when he remembers Arthur insulting his socks.

A new box arrives on his birthday. August is monsoon season in Lampang, and the parcel is a little worse for wear by the time it finds him. The paper is soggy when he tears it off after noting it was sent from London. Inside the small, gold box is a t-shirt with “World’s Okayest Gambler” printed in large letters, and a beautiful wood fountain pen. Eames immediately strips off his top and pulls on the t-shirt. It stretches tightly over his broad chest and he grins, guessing the fit is on purpose. The pen isn’t anything he would use for forgeries, or for work at all, really. It’s distinct and fragile. No, the pen is just for him. The skill and detail draw his eye, and he appreciates the hours and dedication that must have gone into its creation.

He uses it to cross Yusuf and Stasik off the list. Yusuf would never go looking for something like this just to please him, and Stasik wouldn’t understand why Eames found it so wonderful.

Eames sleeps in the shirt. In fact, he finds he has a hard time letting it out of his sight to be laundered. One night, while feeling particularly maudlin, he puts on the boxers, the socks, and the shirt. He spritzes on a little of the cologne, and lays out the playing cards alongside the pen. He rereads all the notes slowly, savouring every word inked on the paper. Then he lays down and slowly works himself to the ache of passion his admirer has planted in his soul. The card simply stating _Happy Birthday_ , rests on his pillow.

October finds Eames back in the States. Chicago is a nice city, but Eames can’t relax. Arthur is on the job and he finds himself unable to focus on his work. Last month’s card, along with the message It’s lonely here without you, had pulled him deeper into his obsession, and now that he’s faced with the possible author of his mystery, he’s terrified to uncover the truth.

He could walk up to Arthur and ask him point blank if he’s the one, but if he’s wrong he worries it might crush him. He’s looked into Giles’ activity over the past year, and despite the man’s routine of sticking close to home, Eames can’t rule him out. Giles would have no problem orchestrating this chase without leaving a paper trail.

Across the room, Arthur huffs in annoyance. He’s asked Eames three times if there’s a problem, and each time, Eames has smiled and said no. But he can’t stop staring. The answer to all of this could be sitting less than twenty feet away, and Eames can’t decide if asking is worth the risk.

The jobs ends, and Arthur departs without a word. Half of Eames is bereft, the other half, relieved. A card with a crudely drawn skeleton is waiting for him on the desk in his hotel room. His heart leaps into his throat. It has to be Arthur. Why, then, did the man not say anything?

Perhaps the joy for Arthur is in the chase, and having Eames make mention of it would cause it to lose it’s lustre. Or maybe this is Arthur’s idea of courting Eames and is building to something. He decides to wait just a while longer. The next time he sees Arthur, he’ll ask, but the thrill of there being an endgame is too great to jeopardize.

November’s card is prompt and simple. _Is it warm where you are?_ makes him shiver and regret not confronting Arthur when he had the chance.

He’s in London for Christmas, and the box arrives on the 23rd. He can’t resist opening it immediately and has to sit down when he uncovers the watch and the receipt for 24 chickens and twelve goats to a village in Haiti he’s secretly donated to for years.

The digging needed to find that information is immense, and that’s the moment Eames knows for sure that it’s Arthur. Giles never cared about the little pieces that made up the man, he only saw value in what Eames could do to benefit him. He’d never even think to go looking for something like this. Something buried so far beneath the surface.

Tears prick his eyes, and he sniffs. No use getting sentimental now when there’s nothing he can do about it. He gathers the paper to toss in the recycling and sees the postmark from New York. Where Arthur lives.

Eames doesn’t realize he forgot about the card until the next morning. _Soon_ is all that’s written.

January is quiet and lonely, with Eames on edge, waiting for a call that will take him to Arthur. When the 31st passes with nothing, he throws himself a pity party and gets blindingly drunk.

On February 3rd, an extractor by the name of Tessa calls with a job in Venice. With no communication from Arthur, Eames agrees and flies out ten days later. He arrives at the Bauer Hotel in San Marco to meet with Tessa’s team, but when he knocks, Arthur opens the door.

Eames is frozen in place. Arthur is in Bangkok, he checked. He’s not supposed to be opening hotel room doors and sending Eames heart into his throat.

Arthur smiles, his dimples deep and disarming, and gestures for Eames to enter. Besides them, the room is empty, but there’s champagne on ice, and a small, white box on the table beside the bed.

Eames runs a hand over his mouth, not sure what he’s supposed to do now that the moment is upon him.

Arthur’s smile wavers at the lack of reaction. He reaches for Eames’ hand, and the contact shocks him out of his stupor. He pulls Arthur to him, holding on for dear life. Arthur runs his hands down his back, inhaling deeply. Eames remembers he’s wearing the cologne.

Once his panic has passed, he pulls back to look at Arthur. He presses a chaste kiss to the dimple on Arthur’s left cheek, making him laugh. Arthur leads him by the hand to the bed, handing him the box.

Eames’ hands shake as he opens it, mourning the end of the chase, but anticipating the beginning of something new.

Inside is a single piece of paper, folded in two. Written on it in block letter are the words _Found you_.

Eames grins broadly, pulling Arthur in with a hand on his neck, pressing their smiling lips together.

“ _Darling_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always welcome!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/teacuphuman09


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